


Fire Me Up

by Mari_Knickerbocker



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, F/M, Fireman AU - Freeform, Gratuitous Song References, Jolene and Jensen friendship is life, M/M, Meet-Cute, Multi, Or Is It?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 13:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18344216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mari_Knickerbocker/pseuds/Mari_Knickerbocker
Summary: Jensen is rudely woken up by the fire alarm at some ungodly hour (forget the fact he’s only just went to bed, it’s still rude af) then forced to stand out in the cold. But there’s his buddy Jolene to chill with (literally) and neighborhood drama to watch unfold so it’s not all bad, right?An introduction to a cute fireman doesn’t hurt.





	Fire Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to obsessivereader for the beta read! 
> 
> Also thanks to TigerLily, frostbitebakery, krycekasks, and thatsmysecret for all of the fantastic 80s hair band ballad suggestions on Twitter. Particularly belovedmuerto who’s suggesting provided the perfect title for this silly little fic.

For once Jake could say beyond any shadow of a doubt that this, this wasn’t his fault. Yes, he may very well be the walking embodiment of a human disaster, and he’d have to remember to thank, or rather curse, Jess for that descriptor one of these days, she really was so supportive of all his endeavours, a true big sister at heart. But this time, THIS TIME!, he wasn’t the disaster at fault. No _ **P**_ e, this time around Jake had been innocently snoring away the sleep of the innocent having only poured himself into bed a mere hour, hour and a half, okay maybe two hours tops, before the shit had hit the fan. He’d just resurfaced from a fourteen hour coding binge with the minimal required breaks to keep him functional and was basically a sleep-deprived zombie. Which was nowhere near Jensen’s all time record for number of hours coding uninterrupted but it had been awhile since the last time he went on a jag like that and by the time he was done Jensen was pretty much dead on his feet.

And disaster of a human being or not, even he knew better than to attempt to cook when his mind was still processing everything as strings of never ending ones and zeros more than anything else. It may have taken a few years of trial and error before he learned to keep a stash of protein bars and some water by both his desk and bed for situations such as this, but learned it he had. Jake chomped his way through a couple, barely tasting them, and downed some water before faceplanting into the middle of his unmade bed and cocooning himself in at least three different fleece blankets and one comforter, so that he resembled a blanket burrito more than a man, glomping onto one of the two body pillows he keeps to help with his sore back and not to trick himself into feeling like his empty bed isn’t so empty. Slowly, Jensen drifted off to sleep humming an 80’s rock band hit under his breath to lull himself to sleep and hoping that both his brain would shut off and that the insomnia would let up enough for him to catch the bare minimum of hours to count for a decent amount of sleep.

So, you see he couldn’t have been the source because he’d had no need to attempt any cooking at after one in the morning. Not to say that had never been the case before. Just that this particular morning it wasn’t Jensen’s craving for 3 am homemade nachos gone wrong that’d chased everyone in the apartment complex out into an early morning snowfall. That’s also not _NOT_ saying that Jensen’s a bad cook. He just had a tendency of getting a little distracted sometimes during crucial moments of the cooking process that led to one or two, possibly three or four, memorable accidents, or disasters if you’d rather, in the kitchen. Usually though it’s not anything _too_ catastrophic. Nothing he’d done had required the presence of a fire company in years now and he was often capable of containing things with a judicial application of his own fire extinguisher. (Look, Jake learned how to cook when he was way too young to be trusted around a stove but had to rely on either himself or Jess if he wanted something to eat, then perfected his skills while he was still in the army, he’s adaptable).

Anyways, that was neither here nor there and completely irrelevant at this juncture. It wasn’t Jensen’s kitchen that was on fire tonight, if this had been three weeks ago, however, it would have been a different story.

Apparently, all of the blame could be unequivocally laid at the feet of someone living in one of the apartments just a floor beneath his own. It was their still unidentified kitchen that had gone unattended and erupted into hellfire. And thereby was now responsible for everyone in the building getting a nasty case of blue balls from some totally unexpected, non-consensual, and decidedly unkinky, temperature play. Otherwise known as braving New England’s mid-February winter weather in nothing more substantial than one’s pajamas. At least Jensen had thought to bring a couple of blankets with him when he rushed out of his bedroom. And yeah, he might be wearing them as capes but honestly was there a better way to wear a blanket? No there was not.

“Are we humming Dolly again, Jay?” His source of all neighborly gossip asked, elbowing him not so subtly in the side to make sure she had his undivided attention.

“There’s always time for Dolly, Jolene,” he answered his friend and current inspiration for song choice. Jensen paused long enough in his little song and dance routine to notice how she curled protectively over her toddler in an effort to keep the little dude warm and judiciously untied one of his blanket capes to tuck it around her and the munchkin.

“You do realize that in our particular situation the real ‘Jolene’ was the army?”

“God what a whore,” he whined, in a fair imitation of a mean girl, making Jolene chuckle delightedly.

He and her husband, Pooch, had met back during basic training and had become fast friends then by some strange happenstance ended up in the same unit towards the end of their careers. They’d both managed to save each other near the end there and Jolene used to be adamant about making a big deal out of that, much to both of their embarrassment. She eventually learned to let it go when she realized that they really weren’t going anywhere anymore.

“So what’s the sitch? What’s happening? Give me the 411? Do we know how it all went down yet?”

“Jay, if you’d stopped squirming and paid attention we would know by now,” Jolene scolded him fondly. Then with an almost imperceptible jerk of her chin she indicated a pair of aggressively gesticulating figures.

Squinting through the smudges on his glasses and the gathering snowflakes on his eyelashes Jensen was able to identify the scary couple. Also known as the woman who once alluded to adding his own ears to her childhood collection when he flirted in her general direction while collecting his mail one day, though to be fair he was flirting in the general direction of the entire lobby as he did everyday, and gave him a pants-busting crush in the process, and the dude who always looked like he just finished having very athletic sex in a Tom Ford suit with ten-day old five o’clock shadow. Truth be told, Jake couldn’t decide if he wanted to be him or call him ‘Sir’, it varied from day to day.

“Ooo _OOO **ooH**_ so we’ve identified the culprits, have we?” He did not declare this gleefully or too loudly so as to go unnoticed. Also, totally coincidentally, he was only rubbing his hands and smiling maniacally because he was trying to regenerate warmth in his fingers which were slowly starting to turn purple.

He did, however, earn himself another, sharper jab from Jolene’s elbow in an effort to shut him up. Evidently she was really keen to eavesdrop on the brewing lover’s spat. Jensen turned towards Mr. Murkowski to favor him with a ‘can you believe the abuse I suffer?’ look only to discover that he and a vast majority of the complex residents had wandered off into the parking lot and the relative warmth of the cars of those smart enough to have grabbed their keys on their way out of the building. Which, honestly, not a bad idea that. He could probably secure Jolene and the little guy a spot in somebody's berth because even though this wasn’t the Titanic, death by frostbite was still a valid concern.

A “Goddamnit Clay!” suddenly rang out across the lawn distracting Jensen from his internal calculations about who he could safely bribe for a spot in a warm car. He turned back towards the arguing and, more than likely, guilty couple, just in time to see the guy, Clay, rubbing at his arm from where the woman must have smacked him in her aggravation. It amused Jensen to no end to see that the guy was still wearing his trademark rumpled suit, looking a little worse for wear and a whole lot bedraggled what with the drowned puppy look from what Jensen assumed had to have been the sprinklers in the man’s apartment going off.

“Cool it, Aisha, we’re both to blame here.” He grumbled at her sounding like a put upon bear even as he rubbed at his bicep.

“I’m not the **idiot** who thought you could put out an _oil_ fire by splashing water on it!”

“Can we not hold that over my head forever? For a refreshing change.”

“Well that’s sorted,” big scary dude with an awesome pirate-like eye scar declared, jogging out of the still questionably on fire building to join the shouty pair. “Do me a favor, next time you two want to surprise me with a seductive meal, actually pay attention to what you’re cooking, not each other. 

Also, just off the top of my head, maybe try not cooking after midnight and just join me in bed instead.”

Evidently maybe-was-a-pirate was not Mr. & Mrs. McScaryBoner’s casual third-wheeling friend but a pivotal part of their relationship. Who could’ve ever guessed that? Not Jensen. Although, if he was less invested in having them discover the fear boner they inspired in him every time he crossed paths with them in either the mailroom or the elevator or - heaven forbid - that one time in the far too crowded stairwell, he probably would have. Normally Jensen was pretty good at picking up those kind of clues when his observational skills were not otherwise occupied.

“Did either of you two geniuses think to call 911?”

“No need, building’s fire alarm is wired to automatically place a call,” Clay answered gruffly.

A fact that Jensen knew well since he was the one who had updated the complex’s automatic system. Still that didn’t stop him from looking over at Jolene for reassurance that someone had thought to dial the proper authorities.

“Linwood texted me,” she said, answering his unspoken question. “They’re probably five minutes out by now.”

“Shame on Pooch texting while he’s driving a fire truck.”

“Be grateful, Jay, it’s freezing out here,” Jolene pointed out, shifting the blanket covering her son to make sure that there wasn’t a portion of him exposed to the weather. “Besides, Linwood’s not driving tonight, he’s training a rookie and much as he dislikes it he has to give up the wheel and let the rookie try driving every once in awhile so that everyone in the company knows how to handle the truck. Especially if anything were to ever happen to him.”

“Knock on wood,” Jensen added automatically, rapping on the side of his head jokingly then again on the decorative fencing they were standing next to. “It is colder than Cold Miser’s nutsack out here.”

“Indeed. Thankfully, at least this time you’re wearing something more substantial than some ratty boxers and a pirate hat. Still missing a shirt, but work in progress,” she pointed out, with a disappointed shake of her head that mothers across generations just seemed to _know_. It was the kind of gesture that managed to convey the sentiments _’why are you so like this?’_ and _‘ I love you so much you silly thing’_ seamlessly in one very eloquent movement. Jolene had been employing it almost since the very moment she and Jake first met.

Distracted, Jensen looked down at himself to catalog his own attire - fluffy fleece pajama pants that proudly proclaimed him to be a Hufflepuff, his strawberry printed waders that (unfortunately) hid the fuzzy Chewbacca socks currently keeping his feet warm, and of course, his pirate hat which he may or may not have fallen asleep wearing again after his coding binge - and thereby missed the fire truck’s grand entrance. He was still trying to determine what exactly was wrong with what he was wearing when he finally processed Jolene’s crack about his boxers.

“Hey!” He exclaimed not caring that his voice was carrying over the sound of a truckload of fireman disembarking onto the complex’s parking lot and the clatter of their gear as they stomped into the apartment building. Not to mention the truck’s still-running siren. “Respect SpongeBob, he’s a hardworking dude!”

It should bother him that he could easily make out the sound of Pooch trying not to die from laughter, but it didn’t.

“I know honey,” Jolene agreed easily enough. Her easy acceptance didn’t stop him from pouting more than a little at the implication that his fashion choices weren’t the best.

They waited in companionable silence, despite Jensen’s feigned hurt feelings, for an all clear to re-enter the building. It became pretty clear fairly quickly from the way the majority of the firemen, and the building owner, gathered around the Terrifying Trio ™ that their apartment suffered the most damage from the late night inferno and that soon everyone else should be good to return to their beds. He had tried to convince Jolene to stick out the remainder of their waiting time in one of the many running, and warm, cars so that she and the little man wouldn’t get any colder, but she’d insisted that they were fine.

It wasn’t long before Pooch, trailed by another man, meandered his way over towards where they are keeping vigil.

“Hey baby,” Pooch greeted his wife, leaning in to give her a kiss but refraining from indulging in their customary full embrace, mindful as he is of the fact that he smelled of smoke, charred calamari, and fire retardant. All smells that Jolene would not appreciate having smeared over her own pajamas let alone their child’s. He turned to greet Jensen paid him no mind, his attention completely taken by the man standing a little ways behind him and to the left.

The visor on the fireman’s protective headgear was lifted and all Jake could clearly see, thanks to the poorly lighted parking lot, were sharp eyes and angular features. But he knew, he _knew_ that he was in the presence of one of, if not **THE** most, beautiful people he’d ever seen. He could tell by the way the man held himself, the absolute confidence and comfort he displayed within his own body, standing in perfectly relaxed stillness not feeling a need to fidget although he was clearly the odd man out right now. That kind of competency was _beyond_ sexy as far as Jake was concerned. The man could as fugly as sin and he’d still be good to go.

As always happened to Jake when presented with someone he was developing an instantaneous attraction to, his mind deep dived straight into flustered overdrive and all he was capable of thinking in is 80s hair band songs. This time, he was so inexplicably flabbergasted (or perhaps rightfully so) he couldn’t settle on just one lyric from one song and instead ended up ping-ponging between several; mismatching them into an 80s-inspired Frankenstein monster of his own making:

_”Baby, I can’t fight this feeling anymore… Is this love or am I dreaming… When you breathe I want to be the air for you… I’d live for your smile and die for your kiss… If I can’t have you right now, I’ll wait dear… Save all your love for me, when I’m alone at night you’re all I see… You wouldn’t have to say that you love me ‘cause I’d already know… It’s more than a feeling...I want to know what love is, I want you to show me…._

“....I want to feel what love is, I _know_ you can _**SHOW ME!!!!**_ ”

A ringing silence hung in the air between the five of them for a few beats after Jensen blurted his heart out, then Pooch lost it. He laughed so hard he had to curl up like a pillbug to help keep his balance in his gear after nearly toppling over from throwing his head back. Jolene was kind enough to bite her lip to try and smother her laughter but Jensen could still hear her snickering around it. As for the subject of Jake’s impromptu serenade, he just stood there in silence taking it all in.

To be perfectly frank, Jensen didn’t mind his friends laughter. He was aware of how ridiculous he could be and half the time he deliberately set out to make himself the butt of a joke because at least then he knew exactly where he stood with others. In the case of Pooch and Jolene their laughter was never maliciously intended so it hardly registered to him beyond the warm feeling of pleasure he got from providing a sense of joy for those he cared about. What he didn’t like was not knowing where he stood and being unable to control others’ reactions to him. This mystery fireman’s non-reaction? Stuff of nightmares for Jensen. The exact kind of thing designed to give him hives and cause him to break out into a cold sweat.

That must have been something the man could pick up on, however, or he just needed a moment to process his rather unconventional introduction to Jensen, because after another minute or two of silence on his part and slowly regained composure on the part of the Porteous, the man sidled closer to Jensen. An impressively alluring move with the additional 45lbs of kit added to his shoulders.

“Does your Mr. Bob not already do this for you?” he inquired, in a softly accented voice.

“Uh, my Mr. Bob?” Jensen asked, floundering at the apparent nonsequiteur. “Pal, I don’t know - ”

It was the mischievous glint in the other man’s warm brown eyes that clued Jake in on the joke, that and the slight smirk that was more of an invitation to share in his amusement than a sign of mockery. Mr. Mysterioso fireman knew exactly what it was he had implied.

“Oh, nah. He doesn’t exactly do it for me, ya know?”

“Stop! Stop, put me out of my misery,” Pooch rudely interrupted what was going to be Jake’s meet-cute moment, he could feel it. Sometimes, for a best friend, the Pooch-man was a poor excuse for a wingman. _Truth hurts buddy._ “I cannot stand by and listen to you defile a cartoon character.”

“To late for that Pooch, I already wear boxers with cartoon characters on them. So do you if memory serves.” That brought him and his judging judgy ways up short.

“Settle down boys,” Jolene, ever the voice of reason, reigned them in. “Carlos, it’s good to see you again although I wish it was under better circumstances. This here gem is Jake Jensen. Jake, meet Carlos Alvarez. And yes Carlos, he’s pretty much always like this but we love Jay anyways.”

“I’ve been told I am an acquired taste, so no hard feelings if you don’t.” Jensen felt the need to inform Carlos even as he reached out to shake his hand in greeting. Pooch merely shook his head in resignation at Jensen’s particular brand of people skills even as he hovered protectively over his family as he ushered them back into the apartment building.

“Sounds fun,” Carlos replied. Using his hold on Jake’s hand to pull him in close, he whispered by his ear, “Would be happy to show you mine if you show me yours?”

Jensen absolutely did not trip on the lip of the sidewalk. It had jumped up out of nowhere and attacked him, maliciously, without provocation. That’s his story and he would not be changing it any time soon. Thank goodness there was a very handsome fireman right there to save him from a nasty fall.

**Author's Note:**

> because apparently, this has become necessary
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> **DON'T COPY TO ANOTHER SITE**  
>  _


End file.
